


Hate

by raunchyandpaunchy



Series: Sun's Dawn [20]
Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Crushes, F/F, Femslash February, Femslash February 2019, One Shot, Snark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-20
Updated: 2019-02-20
Packaged: 2019-11-04 01:32:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17889029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raunchyandpaunchy/pseuds/raunchyandpaunchy
Summary: Only one thing stands between Nirya getting into the College of Winterhold, but that thing is a mer so infuriating that it makes her blood boil.





	Hate

They had first met when Nirya had joined the College, fresh-faced and eager to show her contemporaries what she was capable of. Faralda had merely sniffed, looking at the Flame Atronach Nirya had just summoned with cold indifference.

“It’ll do, I suppose,” she’d said, watching Nirya’s conjuration crumble to ash and firesalt. “This way.”

Nirya followed, feeling the fire in her palms burn fierce, fuelled by her own fury. _Arrogant, pompous churl._ At least her anger would keep her warm in this frozen wasteland of a country.

“Shimmerene?” Faralda’s voice cut through the harsh winds as they ascended the stone bridge.

Nirya blinked, not understanding Faralda’s question.

Faralda turned, looking at her as if she were deeply stupid. “I take it that’s where you’re from, yes?” She raised a brow. “Judging by that accent.”

Nirya could barely feel the cold, with the way her hands blazed like a well-stoked hearthfire. “I am, actually,” she replied through gritted teeth, trying not to show the mer how much she got under her skin. “I’m presuming you’re from Alinor.” _With that attitude,_ she bit back.

“Of course,” Faralda replied. “Any other obvious questions you’d like to ask while we’re still outside College grounds?”

_How about “Would you prefer to die via flame or frost magicka?”_

Nirya seethed silently, trying to pay attention to the gaps and hairline cracks that scarred the ancient, dubious stone bridge she was currently crossing. _Auri-El, this College really was in shambles._ As she carefully stepped around a gap in the pathway, she cursed every person and Divine responsible for sending her to this veritable shitheap.

“This next part’s rather dangerous,” Faralda commented, with a tone that suggested she didn’t really care if Nirya lived or died. “Take my hand.”

 _Was she serious?_ Nirya glowered at Faralda’s extended hand, realising she truly wished for her to take it.

“Look, your impending death isn’t really my concern,” Faralda said, hand on hip. “But the Arch-Mage insists that I get all prospective students to him in one piece, so—if you’d be so kind as to assist in this endeavour?”

Mist billowed between them as Nirya sighed. “Fine.” The flames cloaking her own hands died down to nothing as she breathed in and out, calming herself enough to allow the fire inside to dissipate. She reached for Faralda’s hand, fearing as soon as she took what was offered she’d be cast into the Sea of Ghosts.

Instead, elegant slender fingers interlocked with hers, warm and soft and strangely comforting. A surge of energy shot through Nirya, as if she’d been struck by a thousand tiny lightning bolts, and suddenly the furious blaze that had built inside her shifted and changed into a warm glow. The still-bright embers of a barely dying fire. Mulled mead, spiced and honey-sweet. Home.

“Yes, the view across the bridge is breathtaking,” Faralda said, rolling her eyes, bunches blowing in the wind. “But you can gawk later. Let’s just cross the blessed thing.”

Nirya stepped forward, her hand in Faralda’s, terrified for reasons that had nothing to do with the sheer drop below.


End file.
